


To get a dream of life again

by Elisexyz



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Injury, Both Grant and Jemma are rogue ex Hydra sleeper agents, Episode: s02e10 What They Become, Established Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-01 23:14:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15784101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisexyz/pseuds/Elisexyz
Summary: “You moron,” she mumbles, somewhat affectionately, as she puts the gun away and kneels in front of him to start inspecting the damage. “What did you do?” she demands.“Ididn’t do anything.”She meets his protest with a mere raise of eyebrows.“What, you think I shot myself?” he insists.She rolls her eyes. “I think you did something stupid to prompt getting shot.”





	To get a dream of life again

**Author's Note:**

> For the Tumblr prompt: [19\. “I could kill you right now!” + Biospecialist](http://heytheredeann.tumblr.com/post/177345117004/i-could-kill-you-right-now-for-biospec-please). I definitely didn't do what I was supposed to with this prompt. Sorry.

“You are forgetting to bend your arms. Again.”

Jemma pushes back a wave of irritation and the urge to throw the damn gun at him, but only because Grant is slumped on the floor in a pool of blood, looking worrisomely pale. She quickly scans the room she just walked in to make sure that they are alone, then she approaches him, putting down the gun as he grins at her.

“You do realize that I could kill you right now. Literally,” she says, because he knows how much it irritates her when he starts pointing out her technical mistakes and being smug about how field training never came naturally to her, no matter how much of a perfectionist she tried to be about it.

“Oh, I do,” he comments, and she doesn’t like how little life there is in his snort. “Honestly, it’s kinda sexy.”

“You moron,” she mumbles, somewhat affectionately, as she puts the gun away and kneels in front of him to start inspecting the damage. “What did you do?” she demands.

“ _I_ didn’t do anything.”

She meets his protest with a mere raise of eyebrows.

“What, you think I shot myself?” he insists.

She rolls her eyes. “I think you did something stupid to prompt getting shot,” she corrects. He has lost quite a lot of blood, and the fact that he stayed on the ground instead of getting up, in spite of having no way of knowing that she’d show up, already speaks for itself. She regrets being a fugitive and not having the possibility of bringing him to an hospital with the proper equipment and doctors.

“I was trying to be helpful,” he scowls. Jemma snorts: Grant oftentimes has a weird notion of what ‘helpful’ means.

“What were you even _doing_ here?” she asks, deciding that she can sacrifice her shirt to save her dumbass sort-of-boyfriend from his own stupidity.

“I was, uh, sort of working with— Whitehall.”

That gives her pause. “Whitehall?” she echoes, and Grant attempts a shrug, regretting it a second later as he tries not to moan too much because of the pain. “Since _when_ do you like Hydra?”

They ditched everyone together as soon as she got him out of SHIELD custody, and when he said that he had a couple of errands to run on his own she didn’t think that he’d go back to damn _Hydra_ , what was he _thinking_? That’s just asking for trouble. She thought they had agreed that the best thing for them was staying the hell _away_ from their dumbass war.

“I don’t,” he clarifies. “It was because Skye’s dad was involved.”

“Skye’s—” Suddenly, everything makes much more sense. “Grant,” she scolds him, even though she can already feel her expression softening.

“I know, I know,” he says, his voice quivering a bit as she fixes the temporary bandage. Getting out of there is top priority, she can stitch him up as soon as they are out of enemy territory. Her safehouse isn’t even that far, fortunately. “You said to leave it alone, but you also said you missed her. I thought she’d be _grateful_ , alright?”

Jemma snorts. “I don’t want to know how exactly you got her in Hydra’s quarters, do I?”

“No, probably not.”

She sighs. “You are a moron.”

“Hey, I had no idea she’d have the guts to shoot me!”

Grant, moronic as he is, sounds even a bit proud; Jemma, on the other hand, freezes for a second: she hadn’t realized that _Skye_ might have been the one to shoot him. When he mentioned her she just figured that he probably got hit during a SHIELD vs Hydra shoot-out, not that she could have— it’s a bit difficult to imagine her former friend shooting someone point blank, even more so someone that she used to care about, no matter how deeply Grant’s betrayal hurt her.

She feels like she doesn’t know Skye at all, not anymore. That’s probably what Skye felt when their true allegiance came out, and that thought doesn’t help her any.

“Apparently, she hates you that much,” she says, much more bitterly than she had intended. “Which means that she hates me as well, so just do me a favour and stop trying, will you?”

Grant’s expression softens considerably, pain and everything else forgotten for a moment. “Jem—” he begins, and she knows that he’s about to try and insist that Skye will come around, that they can make her see that neither him nor Jemma were ever true believers, that she’ll get over the betrayal— Jemma doesn’t want to hear any of it.

First of all, because she doesn’t think that’s true: she didn’t before, even less so now that Skye _shot_ Grant, almost to death – it _would_ have been to death, hadn’t she found him.

Second of all, because right now she isn’t sure that she wouldn’t try to _strangle_ Skye if they crossed paths, instead of attempting to appeal to their mutual affection to restore their relationship, or something close to it. She _shot_ him. He almost _died_.

“Don’t,” she immediately cuts him off. “Look,” she continues, softening her tone. “I appreciate you trying to give me back my friend, I do, but _stop_. Losing you isn’t going to help me, you know it.”

“I’m hard to kill,” he protests, with a small grin.

“She almost managed,” Jemma comments, grimly. “Come on, I’ll help you up, I have a car outside. Just try not to bleed out before I get you to the safehouse, will you?”

“Your wish is my command,” he says, flashing another grin, even though he’s visibly out of breath and it comes out weak.

Jemma nods, taking a deep breath as she slides his arm around her shoulders and grips him by the waist to help him up. She’s probably going to give him another earful on being an idiot later, when he’s not dying on her and she can properly scold him without it seeming like bullying of a poor wounded man, but a part of her only wants to kiss him for his trouble, for trying to give her back her friend in the midst of all that chaos and a life as a fugitive that she yet has to grow accustomed to.

The problem with Grant is that he’s sweet in an idiotic and dangerously original way, and she’s, for lack of a better phrase, a sucker for it.


End file.
